Snow Tracks
by Silly-Blue
Summary: Sam and Dean go sledding for the first time in years. Castiel would be happy to watch them from afar, but Dean wants him to be part of the experience. Light Dean/Cas. One-shot.


**Author's Notes:**

I still have a crush on Supernatural, so I need to go on writing! This was written after I was out in the first snow this winter, which was rather late even though the Alps have had heaps of snow long before we did. It's February after all!

Anyway, this is a rather slow-paced, domestic fanfic with a minimal amount of melancholia hidden underneath.

This is set at an undetermined point in time **after Season 5** where there is no immediate end of the world to tend to and Sam and Dean take a break from hunting.

**Disclaimer:** Supernatural belongs to Erik Kripke and CW.

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><p><strong>Snow Tracks<strong>

The shadows shifted and darkness receded into the far corners of the bed-room. It was getting lighter outside, the glare of the orange streetlamp already extinguished and replaced by the soft blue hues of the comfortable, gentle darkness of the early morning hours. The sun was soon to rise when Castiel slipped noiselessly out of bed. He did it mostly for comfort (the Winchesters', not his), but he did find the hours he spent in bed, silent, unmoving and merely contemplating and listening to the sounds of the house, the neighborhood and the Host agreeable. He dressed quickly and efficiently, pulling off layers, pulling on layers. He liked to watch himself in the long mirror that stood in the corner next to the wardrobe. He studied his reflection as more of his vessel's body was revealed and then methodically covered up again until someone that he could identify as "himself" looked back at him. Dean used to complain about him having zero regard for the simplest of human daily necessities – changing clothes was one of them, actually getting out of his clothes and putting them back on following closely behind. Castiel had seen and still saw no real reason to change out of Jimmy's clothes other than the fact that it seemed to please the Winchester brothers. Sam had volunteered to take him shopping and here he was now, his own set of clothes in the wardrobe to choose from. It was an interesting task, selecting clothes. Mostly it used to be trial and error in the first few months and sometimes Dean still laughed at his chosen get-up, while Sam assured him he was fine (most of the time). But apparently Sam had no fashion sense so his opinion hardly counted. He gave himself a last scrutinizing look, but he found no faults in his black dress pants, the off-white plain shirt or the sand-colored cardigan, so he left the bedroom.

Castiel was in the kitchen, looking out of the window by the time he heard the shower upstairs switching on. It was getting brighter outside, the sun creeping up and casting dim light through a layer of foggy clouds. Their kitchen was small, honey colored tiles along the lower part of the wall and dark brown wooden planks on the floor. There was enough room for him to cook, enough space at the table to eat, enough storage room but Dean still made a mess of everything and Castiel diligently kept cleaning up after him. The Winchester household owned a dozen cooking books but Castiel doubted either of them had looked at more than the covers and pictures inside. Castiel assumed that they were actually his property. Just like with the clothes, the jackets, the bags and the books having something that was actually _his_ was still rather foreign to him. He knew that humans were very vocal about things they owned and had dozens of rules about how to treat another man's property. So he tried to be appreciative of the things that belonged to him. Like the kitchen; while Sam and Dean took from the fridge what they needed, they didn't actually touch much without asking him first. At times he assumed that they were rather glad to relinquish dominion over the kitchen because it meant Castiel would do all the necessary task involved in getting the brothers proper nourishment. The breakfast was already on the table by the time Sam greeted him.

"Forecast hasn't changed much, we're lucky," Sam said in between bites of his cereals and toast. Of course, Castiel knew what the weather would be like, but he nodded attentively, pleased and Sam abandoned breakfast in order to help Dean prepare for their day out.

Castiel had seen the two men pack efficiently and in almost no time when on hunts. But getting ready for their day out was chaotic, a frantic rushing about the house and to the garage and the car. By the time Dean finally came into the kitchen it was already nine in the morning. He was grinning, rubbing his slightly red hands together.

"We're all set!" he said and Castiel looked up at him to meet a scrutinizing look. "You ready?"

"Of course," Castiel replied and handed him a plate with two slices of bread with cheese and cut meat. "You haven't had breakfast." Dean didn't try to argue with the food; they had had two months' worth of discussions about healthy eating and when Castiel had taken Sam's side Dean had caved eventually.

"You know, Cas, you're not exactly dressed for a day out in the snow," Dean said after a while, looking Castiel up and down, "what's with the fancy pants?" Castiel looked down at his clothes, raising his arms slightly. He saw nothing wrong with them, but before he could reply Sam was back in the kitchen.

"Should I get us a couple of sandwiches?" he wondered, already wearing his jacket and a fluffy hat. While Sam and Dean apparently enjoyed being chaotic and unorganized when they had the leisure to, Castiel didn't. He pulled two Tupperware boxes out of the fridge and placed a big thermos flask on the table. Sam laughed, clearly pleasantly surprised. He disappeared into the corridor only to return with a small bag into which he put everything and then left the house to store it in the car.

"You have too much time, Cas. Get a hobby," Dean said, putting his dishes into the sink, brushing shoulders with Castiel as he ran the water over the plate. The angel tilted his head, frowning in confusion.

"I assume that human activities are my hobby," Castiel said and Dean looked at him, "I like the things you might call 'nourishing'," he elaborated and Dean couldn't help laughing at that.

"Yes, from angel of the Lord to housewife. That's a quick and quite depressing descent, buddy." Dean had already dried his palms and was out of the kitchen by the time Castiel had processed the meaning behind Dean's words. He hadn't missed the slight slip of Dean's grin after the statement had left his mouth or how he had been out of the kitchen faster than necessary. Castiel walked into the corridor, where fresh air was blowing in from their front yard and saw the Winchesters putting two sleds into the back of the Impala. It was the first snow of this winter, rather late because it was already February, but now everything was covered with glittering white and the Winchesters had seized the opportunity.

"Where's your coat, Cas?" Sam asked, jogging towards him, his hands tugged into the pockets of his own jacket. He didn't tell them that he didn't experience the low temperatures like they did, but let Sam hand him his coat and Dean put a scarf around his neck. He liked the feel of the scratchy wool around the skin of his neck. Deeming him adequately clothed, the brothers ushered him into the tiny space of the Impala's backseat. He was still not overly fond of travelling in vehicles and could not find joy in driving like Dean did. But he never voiced his slight discomfort because he could still appreciate how at home the two men in the front felt. The Winchesters were as home in their car as they were in the house they had acquired half a year ago, maybe even more so. They knew their car, every space filled with one memory or the other, good and bad. Castiel picked up on everything and let the ease the boys felt seep into him. He felt at peace and less out of place.

Castiel stood by the car and watched the snow covered hill in front of him. Dean had driven them a bit further away from the town, nearing the forest. The snow here was mostly untouched, deep enough that they sunk in to their ankles when they walked up the hill time and time again. The sky was a bright blue, all the morning clouds had dissipated and the sun was shining, warming the metal of their car. Sam and Dean stood at the top of the hill, their cheeks already red and their breath coming out in small puffs. Castiel did not quite understand the purpose of the activity they were engaging in. One sled lay momentarily abandoned at the bottom of the hill, some distance away from Castiel, and Dean was getting the bigger sled ready. Both of them were grown men and had some trouble adjusting their position on top of their vehicle, but then Dean kicked off, wrapping his arms around Sam's waist and they sped down the hill, making snow spill in every direction when they came to a less than graceful halt at the bottom of the slope. Their laughter was such a nice sound, childlike and unrestrained. Castiel smiled and continued watching. This moment belonged completely to the two of them, two boys enjoying themselves; building a ramp that might end in a small disaster, running up the hill, tumbling down, snow ball fighting. Castiel might be visible to them right now, but even if he weren't it would not have made a difference, he was merely a spectator of this display of affection and mirth. He watched in silence, enjoying the sunrays on his vessel's skin, the vague feeling he had come to associate with cold, the still scratchy fabric of Dean's scarf. He closed his eyes and allowed himself this moment of gentle sensations.

Until a snowball exploded on his face. He opened his eyes, blinking slowly as the snow dropped off his face, some of the snow crystals melting on his skin and running down his cheeks. Dean was laughing, holding his stomach while Sam stared at him in mortification that soon eased up into irritation with Dean. Castiel reached up, running his fingertips over his wet cheek and brushed the powdery leftovers of snow off his lashes. The wet, trickling and cool sensation seeping into Dean's scarf and running down his neck was not unpleasant. Sam crossed the distance to the car, dragging the sled behind him on a long rope. Dean was still laughing, but also slowly walked back, rubbing his gloved hands.

"Cas, you alright?" Sam wondered and Castiel nodded. "Dean's an idiot, he shouldn't have done that." Castiel wanted to inform him that he was unaffected by Dean's puerile behavior, but Dean cut him off:

"Man, nobody gets killed by a snowball to the face. Not even Cas," Dean said, sitting down on the sled with a huff. Castiel found his phrasing slightly puzzling because it seemed to imply that he had a lower resistance to the effects of a snowball than most humans. He was not human, he had barely registered the force of the snowball hitting him, but he did not feel like correcting Dean. If he had not been caught off guard, then maybe he would have allowed himself to feel properly. Maybe he should ask for demonstrations at a later point. "Honey, pass me a sandwich?" Castiel looked at Dean, who was pulling off his gloves, then he opened the door to the backseat to get the food bag. He gave both Dean and Sam one of the sandwiches, before pouring them a cup of still steaming coffee.

"Are you done then?" Castiel wondered, leaning back against the Impala, letting his eyes travel over the hill again, tracks now zigzagging through the snow. He then looked at the two sitting on their sleds with faces red by the cold, their body temperature slightly lowered and the pulse only slowly coming back to normal. Maybe he should advise a return before they got too cold, but they had enjoyed themselves and Dean didn't like to be chaperoned by him.

"Why? You're getting bored?" Dean wondered with a snort and tossed the napkin the sandwich had been wrapped in into the food bag. Castiel shook his head. Boredom was still a foreign concept to him.

"I am content to watch you two play. It is very refreshing," he explained and Dean raised his eyes to study him. He seemed marginally pleased at Castiel's reply, but his eyes held an expression suspended between unease and building determination. Castiel refrained from looking more closely because neither of the Winchesters appreciated having their mind or emotions read beyond what they actually decided to express.

"Yeah, we haven't had any opportunity to go sledding in the last couple of years," Sam said, finishing his sandwich, "it's good to know it's still as funny as it was when we were kids." Castiel had no hard time imagining them as children, playing in the slushy snow behind one of their motels. He could see the memories radiating off them like body heat. Those were good memories in bleak situations, a little piece of comfort chiseled out of their harsh lives on the road, hunting, not being kids like they deserved. Memories, Castiel knew, were an important piece of human identities, flashes of good and bad situations that shaped them, comforted them, disturbed them and accompanied them like a second set of footsteps besides their own. And Heaven was made out of good memories, no wonder the two held those little things so precious.

Dean got up from the sled, stretching slightly, but then he took hold of Castiel's arm. The angel looked at him in confusion, watching Dean's hand slide down his forearm until Dean's fingers, cold and not wrapped in gloves, closed around his own. He didn't say anything, merely pulling Castiel with him while Sam grinned at them, pulling out his mobile phone.

"I have not done this before, I do not-" Castiel began as Dean's intent became clear. Dean positioned the sled, turning it into the right direction before shoving Castiel towards it. Castiel sat down gingerly, hands stiffly on the cold wooden surface. "I do not know how to steer this…" he finished his sentence and planted his feet more firmly to the ground. Dean huffed a laugh behind him, then he nudged Castiel gently, urging him to move slightly. Castiel did and the solid warmth of Dean slipped onto the sled behind him. He slowly reached around Castiel from behind, taking hold of his wrists gently and putting them towards the side of the sled where Castiel could grab the metal frame. His fingers lingered, the cool tips brushing over the delicate bones of Castiel's wrists, before settling around Castiel's middle.

Castiel let himself lean back slightly, his back meeting Dean's chest. He could feel Dean's heart rate vibrating through his own vessel. He felt the warm puffs of air stirring the short hair on his neck. Dean's physical proximity was always welcome to him and feeling uncertain about this whole sledding business, it's was also comforting.

"Can we drive safely like this?" he wondered and Dean laughed gently, tilting his head down to place a kiss to the side of Castiel's neck.

"We don't need to," Dean told him, his breath warm and moist like his lips. But then Dean's hands moved, grabbing onto the sled as well and with a powerful lurch forwards they were speeding down the slope. Castiel allowed himself to feel this; to rid himself of vision and sense of direction as the snow swirled up in front of them, to yield control as the sled gained speed without a distinct course, to withdraw enough into his vessel to feel the cold wind soaring past his ears, hitting his face, streaming into his open mouth. He breathed snow and speed and Dean's laughter. They were down in a heap of tangled limps, coats and snow everywhere before Castiel even properly noticed that they had fallen off the sled at the bottom of the slope.

Sam and Dean were both laughing heartily while Castiel saw the bright expanse of blue sky overhead. Dean's lips were still forming a smile and slightly cold when he pressed them to Castiel's mouth, before pulling him up to his feet.

Sam and Dean were already running up the hill again, carrying and dragging their sleds. Castiel realized with no small amount of surprise that he too was part of this experience which would enter the collection of the Winchesters' happy memories. It was a thought that warmed him from inside, made his grace pulse in joy and a smile to form on his lips.

It was early afternoon by the time the Winchesters finally decided to pay heed to their chattering teeth and sore muscles. Sam announced he'd get into the tub to warm up and Dean clumsily thudded up the stairs to change. With both of the brothers upstairs Castiel started preparing a sweet snack. Dean was still red-nosed and cold when he came into the kitchen in a dry set of clothes, lured into the kitchen by the promising smell of food.

"Maybe you should take a bath too after Sam is done," Castiel suggested and handed him a plate with steaming pie and a cup of coffee. Dean grinned at him and took a sip of his coffee. They went to sit in the living room, where the heating was turned up and Castiel had blankets he could tug around Dean. The older Winchester took hold of Castiel's wrist and pulled him down on the couch.

"Just warm me with your body if you worry so much about me," he said with a lazy grin. Castiel settled down, leaning against Dean's side and tugging his head under Dean's chin. He didn't think the warmth radiating off Jimmy's body was very useful, because it was not many degrees above Dean's own. He could ease up on the tight control he had on his Grace, making his body heat up instantly. This would turn him into an "angel furnace" as Dean had called it some years ago, when there was still an imminent fall and the end of the world to contemplate, problems which had rendered any attempts to force his last shreds of Grace deeper into his vessel obsolete. But if he granted Dean this warmth then he would not be able to feel him, not like this. He would register Dean's breath on his face, smelling of pie and coffee, the pressure of his hand on his vessel's hip and many other things, but it would stir nothing within him, he would not feel the comfort or the love, his body would not react to any of it. So he decided that this contact, the blanket, the heating system and the coffee must be sufficient.

"I like sledding. Maybe we could repeat it one day," Castiel said into the easy silence and Dean shifted slightly, putting the plate with the pie on the coffee table. He turned his head to look down at Castiel. "You could teach me to throw a snowball." Dean's smile was beautiful to look at and the man reached out to run his fingers over Castiel's cheek before closing the distance with a gentle kiss.

"Of course," Dean replied, then guided Castiel's head back down on his chest where Castiel could hear a slightly nervous heartbeat. Considering how their current activities should be relaxing this had Castiel slightly alert.

"Is everything okay?" he asked and Dean remained silent for a moment.

"It's just…," Dean started, his fingers digging into Castiel's hip, but not nearly hard enough to bruise. Castiel could feel the tension inside Dean rising, but instead of saying anything, he just kissed the top of Castiel's head. "Everything's alright. I'm just happy that you came with us…"

"Of course I came with you. Wherever you go, I will be there," Castiel said honestly and Dean laughed into Castiel's hair, before kissing it again. Castiel waited for a moment, but then he withdrew enough to look at Dean. "And I'm not doing it because you ask me to… I want to be with you. And with Sam… I want to… be part of your memories." Castiel didn't know if this was what had Dean worried and even if it was, he still was not an expert on talking about things Dean would rather worry about in silence. Dean held Castiel's gaze, searching and with a hint of uncertainty, but then his expression became soft and he smiled genuinely.

"Yeah… I'd like that too," he said, then he pulled Castiel back down, kissing his lips. "You're such a sap, man…"

"Yes, Dean. I know, you tell me all the time." Dean had to laugh, shaking his head. He drew his fingers through Castiel's unruly hair, nose still touching Castiel's cheek, his mouth never straying too far from Castiel's lips.

"I love you," he said and Castiel smiled at him. Yes, he could feel it, he could see it and he could hear it. Dean's body and soul told him those meaningful words over and over again, but he still relished the sound of Dean's voice when he actually spoke it out loud.

"I love you too," Castiel answered gently and they settled into a relaxing silence, now and then disturbed by Dean drawing his fingernails through Castiel's hair or him kissing the top of Castiel's head. It was pleasant and Castiel assumed that he could spend the rest of his time on Earth feeling Dean tracing wordless signs speaking of love onto Castiel's body.

One day Castiel would need to talk to Dean, one day he would have to finally relinquish his selfishly prolonged hold on his vessel. But now he wanted to go out to walk the freshly fallen snow at Dean's side and make his own set of tracks for Dean to remember.

By the time the sun cast red light through the curtains and into their noise filled kitchen, there was another picture hanging on the living room wall, adding to the rich tapestry of their memories together.

_FIN_

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><p><strong>Notes:<strong>

And that's it. While writing this I learnt that a "sled" and a "sleigh" are in fact not the same thing which proves, yet again, that fanfiction writing is very educational.

Also, to go sledding has been the highlight of every winter for me as a child. Accordingly, first snow leads to writing fanfiction about sledding. *lol*

I hope you also have nice memories of playing around in the snow~


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